


love me better

by doncamatic



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Engagement, Getting Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, this is so sad sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doncamatic/pseuds/doncamatic
Summary: Sicheng and Yuta come together and fall apart over milkshakes.





	love me better

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh can we get a crying emoji in the chat

Sicheng and Yuta begin at a diner. It’s a small, shabby looking establishment, the rusted sign threatening to collapse and fall on an unsuspecting passersby everytime the breeze picked up. He’s gone in to escape the cold. It’s funny, he thinks. Sicheng has escaped the harsh winters by entering a place that specializes in milkshakes and ice creams. It’s a bit ironic. 

 

After he sits himself down at a vacant table, he pulls his Mac out and begins working on a project for a class he can’t even begin to remember. The place is empty except for the employees behind the counters and a single man sitting a few tables over, staring adamantly at his phone. Sicheng guesses he isn’t the only fool to come here in the dead of winter.  

 

It’s Yuta who approaches him first. 

 

“Hey, sorry to bother you but my phone won’t work and I need to call my friend to come pick me up. Could I borrow yours? I promise I won’t steal it.” Sicheng, appalled by Yuta’s beauty, his red nose and chapped lips, fishes his phone out of his hoodie pocket without even breaking eye contact. 

 

Yuta’s attractive in the unconventional way. He’s magnetic in the sense that, even if not at first glance, finding him attractive is inevitable. He draws Sicheng in with his sharp, cunning eyes and suddenly he wants know everything there is to know about him.

 

There’s something about the way he speaks, a little bit of an accent to his voice that Sicheng can’t quite place. He’s still ashamed of his poor Korean and his accent would be quite obvious if he says anything, so he just stays silent, handing him his phone and nodding at him in acknowledgment when he bows and gives his thanks. 

 

He doesn’t walk away, though, he never does. 

 

“My name is Yuta,” A hand is thrusted in front of him and he smiles and Sicheng thinks he blacks out for a moment, “what’s yours?”  

 

∞

 

Sicheng asks the question on a Monday. 

 

It’s midwinter and the ground outside is coated with inches of snow, children and families scurrying to escape the predicted blizzard later today. He’s laying next to Yuta on their bed and the silence between them is slowly but surely suffocating him. His hand is resting on his own stomach instead of holding his boyfriend’s hand like he would be if things were different. If they were in a different situation. Maybe in another world, in another universe, they’re happy. Maybe they’re married, maybe even with kids. Maybe they fell in love and stayed in love. 

 

Sicheng doesn’t want to sit and fantasize about their relationships in other dimensions, though. He’s not there, he’s here, and Yuta won’t even look him in the eye anymore. 

 

Thinking back to the point where they first met, he can’t pinpoint exactly where it went wrong. He’d been smitten ever since the beginning, still is. Always will be. He can’t imagine  _ not _ being in love with Nakamoto Yuta. But he knows he doesn’t love him back, not anymore, and he just can’t seem to figure out why. He’d thought everything was going smoothly but one day Yuta asked him a question that shook him out of whatever sugar-glazed reality he’d been living in for the last two years. 

 

“What if we fall out of love?” 

 

Yuta hadn’t looked him in the eye at all. Not when Sicheng asked what he’d meant, not when he asked him if he still loved him, not even when Sicheng walked right out of the diner, hot tears on his cheeks and his hands shaky. At the time, he felt like he was breaking. Like his entire world was shattering right underneath him and there was nothing he could do to fix it. To repair it. 

 

Yuta never said it outright because Yuta never confirms anything, but Sicheng knew from the very moment. Maybe even beforehand. He’s not a vocal person; he speaks with his eyes and Sicheng knows that. He knows almost everything about him, like how he doesn’t like to use spoons, finds them too messy. Knows how Yuta bites his lower lip when he concentrates, knows how he picks at his cuticles when he’s nervous about something. He can tell what Yuta’s thinking just by looking into his eyes. Months ago, it was something they were both proud of. They’d be able to understand the other just by the look they gave each other and they thought it surely meant they were soulmates. Destined to be together until the world opens up and they’re slowly but surely consumed, becoming one with the Earth yet again. 

 

∞

 

“I’m Sicheng.” He clips. He doesn’t want to speak too much or Yuta will catch on to his broken Korean and probably mortify him. It’s happened before.

 

Yuta smiles again. Sicheng has only known him for five minutes but he can already tell Yuta likes to smile, likes to light up whatever room he’s in. “Where are you from, Sicheng?” 

 

He thinks he likes the way his name sounds coming out of Yuta’s mouth very much. Blushing, he mumbles a quiet  _ China _ , not meeting his eyes. Yuta, somehow, lights up even more and takes the seat across from him. 

 

“That’s so cool! I’m from Japan. Isn’t it funny how neither of us are Korean but yet here we are, in Korea?” Yuta speaks rapidly, like he has a million things to say but not nearly enough time. Sicheng struggles to understand but he smiles and nods when he gets the gist of what he’s saying. Ah, that’s where his accent comes from. He thinks he feels flickering in his chest, like the sparks that appear seemingly out of thin air when people attempt to make fire from stones. Maybe if they’re treated right, the flickers could turn into a wildfire. He doesn’t know if he wants that. 

 

It’s silent for a moment. Sicheng has never been good in social situations, especially in social situation involving hot boys. 

 

He startles when Yuta stands abruptly, hands on his hips like an indignant child. He narrows his eyes and says with determination, “You, Sicheng, are very pretty. I think I’d like to get to know you.”

 

The flickers in Sicheng’s chest start a fire. 

 

∞

 

Picking at a loose string that strayed from the perfect stitching of his sweater, Sicheng closes his eyes and breathes. He tries to pretend they’re not about to have the conversation he was convinced they’d never have to have. Pretends they’re napping next to each other like they always do; pretends Yuta’s going to wake up soon and make him dinner and wake him up by kissing his eyelids like he always does. Did. 

 

His consciousness fades for a bit before the bed dips and his eyes flutter open. He hopes this has all been a bad dream, but Yuta’s sitting up next to him. Sicheng rests his palm on his own exposed forearm. His skin is cold. He still won’t look at him. 

 

When he finally asks the question, it comes out a whisper. A faint string of words that Yuta probably wouldn’t have heard had he not been sitting right next to him. 

 

“When did you fall out of love with me?” 

 

It’s out in the open now, he supposes. He knows and Yuta knows he knows. Their heater kicks on and seconds later Sicheng is greeted with a warmth he didn’t realize he missed. 

 

Yuta still won’t look at him but he stiffens noticeably. The ugly part of Sicheng, the angry, the bitter part of him, is happy he looks so uncomfortable. 

 

“I don’t know,” is what he ends up saying, “I thought -”

 

“Bullshit,” His voice is shaking. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t push down no matter how much he tries, and there are tears threatening to form. He won’t let himself cry, he won’t let Yuta see him cry over him. He’s already had enough sleepless nights crying over something he knew would never last, not really. Sicheng promises himself to not shed a single more tear over him. “When did you fall out of love with me, Yuta?” 

 

This time when he asks, there’s a fire in his voice, much like the one that once resided in his chest. For a while, it was fueled by Yuta’s smiles and kisses and sweet words but now - after everything - it’s fueled by anger. Deep, red anger. 

 

Yuta finally looks him in the eye after seven days and Sicheng thinks he temporarily forgets how to breathe. They’re still the same color they’ve always been - a warm, inviting brown - but there’s something different in them. A sense of sorrow, but relief at the same time. He’s saying  _ I’m sorry _ . 

 

“You know,” he starts, positioning himself so that he’s facing Sicheng, “I think I’ll always remember you. Even when we’re both old and married to different people, I think I’ll always remember you, Dong Sicheng.” 

 

“Don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” His heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest and stomped on, torn to pieces and lit on fire by his own fiancé, his own Yuta. 

 

“I do, baby. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally until the day you die and as much as I wish I was, I’m not that person.” He reaches out for Sicheng’s hand and Sicheng doesn’t know how to refuse. He’s always liked holding his hand, more than anything in the world. It’s warm, it’s familiar, it’s home, and even if knows this’ll end and he’ll never get to hold Yuta’s hand again, he can’t seem to let go. 

 

“I still love you, you know? I can’t imagine myself loving someone else.” He says. Sicheng doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like this. 

 

It’s one thing to be rejected from a harmless, unrequited crush. It’s a whole other feeling when it’s his fiancé rejecting him, telling him he doesn’t love him anymore. 

 

They had plans, he and Yuta did. They were going to get married in Italy, were going to invite all of their friends and family and have a wonderful time, even if it wasn’t legally binding. They were going to move to Seoul and maybe one day have kids. They were going to grow old together and die in each other’s arms with greying hair and love in their eyes. 

 

∞

 

They’re sat at a table at some fancy restaurant that Sicheng can’t bother to remember the name of. Yuta’s in front of him like he always is, and he’s dorning that beautiful smile that makes him choke on his spit every time.  

 

“Baby,” Yuta starts, reaching his hand out to grasp Sicheng’s, “when we get married, we should do it in Italy. Or somewhere tropic.” 

 

It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation and it definitely won’t be the last, but it still manages to catch him off guard and make him blush furiously every time. He still can’t accept that Yuta, this man with no flaws, wants to marry Sicheng, a man with an abundance of them. 

 

He beams, giggles a bit and says, “Of course. I was thinking Jamaica? But Italy is really pretty too. Maybe Sicily?”

 

Yuta squeezes his hand, “Ah, Jamaica is so nice. I’ll keep it in my notes. Wherever it is, it’s going to be great, Mr. Nakamoto-Dong.” He throws his head and laughs, loud and bright, when Sicheng grumbles, “ _ It’ll be Dong-Nakamoto _ ”. 

 

“Either way, you’re still going to be my husband.” 

 

He pulls a ring out of his pocket. A shiny silver band, held between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. 

 

Sicheng swears, “Nakamoto fucking Yuta, if you propose to me while I’m eating garlic bread I’m going to kill you.” 

 

Yuta laughs and stands, spreading his arms out and despite all of this, his chest looks really good. Sicheng can’t help but stare, heart stuttering in his chest.

 

He’s known this was going to happen for as long as he can remember. Yuta had told him one day while they were visiting Sicheng’s parents in China. Said, “I’m going to propose to you one day and if you say no, I’ll cry. So, please don’t.” 

 

“I’d never dream of it,” he replied, intertwining his fingers with Yuta’s, who looked like he’d just seen God in the body of a twenty two year old Dong Sicheng, “you’re stuck with me.” 

 

“Everyone!” Yuta says, not shouting but just loud enough to get everyone’s attention, “I am going to propose to my lovely boyfriend tonight, so it would be wonderful if you guys could watch and applaud or something after he says yes.”

 

_ Oh my God.  _

 

His boyfriend turns to face him, cheeks read and eyes starry, and kneels. Sicheng does  _ not _ watch as the fabric of his suit stretches over his thighs. 

 

Yuta sighs dramatically before he starts, drawing a chuckle out of the small crowd that has formed around them, “Dong Sicheng. Wenzhou native. You know two languages, almost three if you count the Japanese I’m teaching you. You hate coffee and you hate the way it tastes on me. I drink it just to annoy you, by the way. Anyway, one of your ears is pointy and one of your hands is bigger than the other,” Sicheng tells him to shut the fuck up, ears going bright red. Yuta shushes him, “I know you. I know almost everything about you and I love you. I can’t imagine a reality where I don’t. I was thinking, if we love each other so much, why don’t we get married? Will you marry me?” 

 

There’s hope in his eyes and a bit of doubt, Sicheng doesn’t know why when he knows he’s going to say yes anyway. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Yuta. 

 

“Whatever, shithead. Give me the ring.” He rolls his eyes when Yuta punches the air and shouts out. He grasps Sicheng’s hand and pulls out his ring finger, delicately sliding the band onto it. They share a moment just smiling at each other, and then it’s broken by the staff clapping. 

 

He’s going to spend the rest of his life with Yuta. He guesses it’s time to start comparing the prices of flight tickets to Italy and Jamaica. 

 

∞

 

He tells himself he’s not going to cry, that he’s not going to let Yuta see his weaknesses, but he can’t keep it up. 

 

Feeling tears well up again, he hides his face in his sweater and tries to breathe. Wills himself to wake up from a dream that’s not really a dream after all. 

 

“I know you do. I know.” He says it in a soothing way, like he’s trying to comfort Sicheng. He doesn’t get to do that. He’s the one breaking things off, he’s the one ruining their relationship, he’s the one tearing Sicheng’s heart to shreds. He doesn’t get to comfort him, not when he’s the cause of his discomfort in the first place.

 

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to try and comfort me. Not when you’re too much of a coward to even tell me when. How long have you been keeping the act up, huh?” His voice is strong, yet muffled by his shirt. Yuta gets the point, he always does. Sicheng hates that about him. 

 

“I don’t know! I swear, I don’t. There’s not a specific point where I thought  _ hey, I don’t actually want to marry you anymore _ . It just happened gradually over time.” Sicheng can tell that he runs his hand through his hair by the way his voice lilts towards the end of his sentence. 

 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Part of him hoped Yuta was going to say this was all a big prank and that he still wants to marry him and spend the rest of his life with him. Part of Sicheng prayed for that, but another part knew he wouldn’t. Part of him knew it was already too late to save them. Maybe they ended before they ever began. 

 

Rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to make his tears go away, he asks, “What are we going to do, Yuta?” 

 

He lifts his hair out of his shirt when he hears Yuta sigh. Recoils when he reaches a hand to fix Sicheng’s ruffled hair, but gives in after a second. He pities himself and how much he wants to savor the last intimate moments he’s ever going to get with the love of his life. 

 

“Come here.” Yuta murmurs, tilting Sicheng’s chin up to look at him. It feels different from how it used to.

 

Sicheng shakes his head, “No, I can’t -” 

 

“Please, Sicheng. Just hug me.” 

 

Sicheng supposes it’s a bit embarrassing how fast he wraps himself up in Yuta’s arms, but he can’t find himself to care. 

 

When they’re like this, arms wrapped around each other and legs intertwining, heads knocking, Sicheng can almost pretend that they’re still good. He can almost deny reality. Yuta has always been the wind to Sicheng’s fire. Wherever he goes, Sicheng follows. He makes Sicheng bigger, more bold, confident. He encourages him to speak his mind and lifts him up when he’s shy. He’s there when no one else is, he’s the one driving force that keep Sicheng sane. Even if they aren’t together anymore, Sicheng doesn’t think Yuta will ever stop being his wind. 

 

He can feel Yuta’s hot breath on his ear and Sicheng buries his face further into his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as to shield more tears from escaping. 

 

“One day, we’re going to meet and fall in love all over again. It might not be in this lifetime, or even the next, but I know it’ll happen. Next time we’ll work, I promise.” Yuta whispers, voice soft against his ear, “You’re my forever boy, darling.” 

 

∞

 

Carnations or Lavender. White or gold. Silk or satin. They seem like such inconsequential choices, but they clearly mean the world to Yuta. 

 

Sicheng can he see him hovering over his notepad, etching out countless numbers to multiple flower shops and bakeries. His back is hunched and Sicheng  _ knows _ it has to hurt at least a little bit. He huffs. 

 

“What are you doing, babe?” Is what he says when he makes his way over to his fiancé. He wraps his arms around Yuta’s torso and rests his chin on his shoulder. He fits right in with him, like a puzzle piece. 

 

Yuta grumbles, “I’m trying to find another place that’ll provide the flowers since the last ones cancelled on us.” 

 

Sicheng hums and kisses his neck. He whispers a quiet  _ I love you _ in his ear, watching in rapt amusement when Yutas’ cheeks color and he bats him away. He’s cute. 

 

He backs off, “You don’t have to deal with that right now. The weddings in like, a year and a half. I think we’re safe for now.” Yutas back is turned to him, so he starts walking towards their kitchen when he gets an idea. He grins. 

 

Connecting his phone to their Alexa, he plays a ballad and calls to Yuta, “Babe, come dance with me.” 

 

Yuta turns to look at him and there’s a look of fondness in his eyes and Sicheng thinks he’s so lucky. He’s so fucking lucky to be here right now; to be here with Yuta. 

 

He slowly gets up and slowly creeps towards Sicheng, playful intent clear on his face, “You want me to dance? Don’t you know how much I suck at it? Not all of us were raised learning traditional Chinese dance, you know.” 

 

Sicheng scoffs and hits his chest, “Oh shut up. I’m sure you know how to slow dance.” 

 

The voice singing from their Bluetooth reaches a high note Sicheng didn’t even think was possible to be reached with the human voice box. 

 

“Fine, but you’re going to embarrass me.” Yuta sighs dramatically, like he always does, and places his hands on Sicheng’s hips. Sicheng wraps his arms around his neck, using the slight height difference to his advantage and glancing down at him and smirking. Yuta glares. 

 

“Don’t,” he says, but there’s no bite in his words. 

 

They stand there, wrapped up in each other, slightly swaying to an unnamed ballad about love and heartache. 

 

His mind is almost numb. Sicheng isn’t necessarily thinking about anything in particular, more about how he should be enjoying moments like these, because he never knows how frequent they’re going to be. Yuta’s been stressed lately because of the wedding planning. Sicheng had told him it’d be a good idea to hire a wedding planner but Yuta didn’t want to hear it. He’d said it was their special day and he wanted everything to be tailored to their exact specifics. Sweet boy. 

 

He’s struck out of his reverie when Yuta snorts. 

 

Sicheng makes a questioning noise, looking down at him. 

 

“The song changed, doofus. We’re literally dancing to Single Ladies.” There’s a smirk on his face, like he knows Sicheng had been trapped in his own thoughts. 

 

He blushes, “Oh.” Attempting to detach himself, he says, “Sorry.” 

 

Before he can get too far though, Yuta pulls him back into his arms and pecks him, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

 

Sicheng furrows his eyebrows, “Turning the - what?” 

 

“You’re so stupid.” Sicheng is confused. “I wasn’t complaining, I was just making an observation. I think it’s cute to slow dance to pop music.” 

 

Sicheng’s face twists, “Do  _ not _ call Beyoncé ‘pop’, I’ll kill you. She’s in a whole other realm of music production.” 

 

Yuta cackles. 

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Now, are you going to dance with me some more or do I have to force you to?” 

 

“What does that even mean - ” 

 

∞

 

Yuta slips out in the night. He takes his personal belongings, all confined to two small boxes, and leaves the rest of his life behind. Sicheng doesn’t sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'already gone' by sleeping at last! thanks for reading *kiss*


End file.
